Note To Reader: You will notice on the words with a silent k I have underlined the first two letters. This is your cue to pronounce the k (make the silent k unsilent you could say) for the purposes of this passage. For instance 'knife' instead of being pronounced 'nife' will be pronounced 'ka-nife' and 'knockwurst' instead of being pronounced 'nockwurst' will be pronounced 'ka-nockwurst'. If I didn't underline the first two letters of these kind of words as a cue throughout the passage it's only natural to read them as we always do and out of habit leave the k silent. I believe by pronouncing the k in all these underlined words the passage will flow better, sound more k-ish (if that's an adjective!), and be funnier. So enjoy!

This one is a change of pace, still humorous but not quite as wacky as the others but more bittersweet, nostalgic, even patriotic.

My pals and I were kicking back at our favorite hangout at the Kiwanis club in Kalamazoo playing Keno and watching the Pistons/Knicks game over a keg of beer and kielbasa imported from Krakow with knockwurst from Karlsberg with a side of kettle fries with ketchup. We were kidding each other over what kindred spirits we were. We became keenly aware that there was indeed a kernel of truth to our theory that some strange kismet had kept us close-knit from when we were five mischievous Katzenjammer kids in kindergarten through the whole kaleidoscopic journey of our lives up to the present.

My grandpa fought the Kaiser in WW1 and my dad battled the Kamikazes in WW2. My uncle fought in the Korean War and later my cousin helped liberate Kuwait. My older brother joined the Special Forces and like Kris Kringle would bring me back strange keepsakes from exotic locales like Karachi and Katmandu and Kashmir! I and my four friends recently fought with the Kurds against Iraq earning kudos for our actions during a knotty situation in a key battle.

Through some kink in the system and without our knowledge some knuckleheaded
klutz must have filled our armored tank with kerosene instead of gasoline causing it to go kaput in the heat of battle. We figured it may have been our death knell
but Hell! Surrender? That just ain't kosher with us so go fly a kite! So under heavy fire we opted to escape and all keyed up, we bailed like doggies escaping from a kennel or perhaps like horses running the Kentucky Derby or maybe even like Keystone Cops depending on your point of view.

Just when I thought my knobby knees couldn't take it anymore, we spotted a rare grassy knoll and beyond it swirling rapids. We quickly fashioned a makeshift kayak (There were no Kawasaki Motorcycles lying around like in the movies) and careful not to keel over and go Kerplunk! in the water, we continued downstream for a few kilometers until we happened upon some kindly villagers who treated us like kings. Seeing our mess kits from our knapsacks running low, they fired up the kiln for us. There was cabbage type stuff much like kale and a fruity type treat almost like a kumquat. There was this dried meaty preparation like kippered beef and a very salty delicacy like seaweed or kelp. The kiddies helped out by kneading dough to make a knish type thing too. We had our choice of a strong kava-kava style beverage or a milder one with a hint of kola nut flavor. They even mended our torn khakis reinforcing them with something akin to Kevlar and sent us on our way with some finely ground kibble and some energy food resembling kidney beans to sustain us.

What we lacked in ken we must have made up in good karma since we managed not to get killed or kidnapped and miraculously reached base. They had just notified our next of kin that we were MIA, whereupon I put the kibosh on that by calling my mum and telling her to put away the Kleenex.

Throughout history it always seems that some peace-hating killjoy kook with the 'wrath of Khan' or whatever comes out of the woodwork and into the kleig lights of the world stage to kindle the flames of war. He tries to set everything out of kilter and like some big Kahuna with a king-size ego, tries to make other nations kowtow and kneel before him. It's not mere kitsch the guy's talking, he's serious. Be forewarned, if he's a lion in war you can't be a kitten. A good soldier must be a modern day knight, willing to cross the Kalahari Desert or climb Mount Kilimanjaro if his country comes knocking. It's kill or be killed. You can go consult your King James Bible or the Koran or the Kabbalah or talk to (Hare) Krishna if you like, but it's that simple.

Whether you utilize a good old knuckle
sandwich, a swift karate kick, crafty kung fu moves, skillful knife play, or a bullet from an AK-47, you need know-how in all forms of combat out there. It's amazing the prodigious amount of kinetic energy you can summon to get off your keister when you're outmanned in the middle of some Hell's Kitchen in a hostile kingdom. I found that if I tapped into my Kundalini force I could summon up the killer instinct of a Komodo dragon and avoid becoming shish-kebab.

Well it's nice to be away from all the kerfuffle and back stateside where tonight they're throwing a fun Karaoke night for us five right here in this hall. If you buy a ticket at the kiosk, you can be entertained by Kevin in a kimono doing some Kabuki theater, Kenneth in a kilt-looking way too kinky for my tastes-playing Kool&The Gang on the bagpipes, Keith attempting KC&The Sunshine Band on kazoo, and the real kicker, me Karl resplendent in kelly green doing a Kermit the Frog song on the ukulele while Kip jabs at the Kurzweil Keyboard. We actually call Kip Kib instead since he can't help kibitzing at cards telling you when someone has a king or a knave.

Tonight I plan to propose to Katy, cute as a Kewpie doll and practiced in the Kamasutra (!), with a kiss and a 24-karat diamond. Did I have the money for it in a secret kitty? Was I a drug kingpin moving kilos? Did I strike gold in the Klondikes out in the Yukon? Was I a financial guru with a knack for trading in Krugerrands and kroners and kopeks? Did I knock off Fort Knox? Am I a kleptomaniac? No, the dazzling ring was a knick-knack courtesy of my older brother from when he was in Kabul monitoring the activities of the KGB and the Kremlin. Anyway, if she'll have me, we'll go on a honeymoon to New Zealand, home of the kiwi bird, and over to Australia where we can see cute koala bears and kangaroos.

As the keynote speaker I will inform everyone that we five are going back for a second tour of duty and doing so willingly not kvetching or kicking and screaming. It's just that our country needs us to finish the job by delivering the KO punch.

IN OTHER DEVELOPMENTS IN THE NEWS WHILE THAT STORY WAS GOING ON:

Karnak the Magnificent, know-it-all
sage decked out with knurled style turban and flowing kaftan, predicted that Clark Kent, otherwise known as Superman, would prove vulnerable to kryptonite